


Words you won’t use, you don’t feel them like I do

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cemetery, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, true wolf form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a hard time with words but Stiles has enough to go around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words you won’t use, you don’t feel them like I do

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for LJ's TW_heat_wave challenge. It was beta'd by loriann on LJ who did it for me in a heartbeat, for which I'm incredibly grateful for!
> 
> This was the prompt:
> 
> Characters/Pairing: Derek/Stiles  
> Prompt: 5 times Derek turned into a wolf around Stiles and the one time he actually used his words (or something like that)  
> Maximum rating: G - PG-13  
> Squicks/dislikes: Bestiality, crack  
> Anything else/Special Requests: Obviously AU where the werewolves can turn into actual wolves (or maybe just Derek can, because he's the Alpha, IDEK). I just love the thought that he turns into a wolf when he's very emotional (angry, protective, scared, etc), so he doesn't have to talk about stuff, but at the same time I imagine it's a lot harder to hide his emotions this way. Brownie points for fluff, angst, h/c and comforting Stiles in wolf-form (snuggling up to him, nuzzling, cuddling, etc).

“Well you’re _not_ the alpha so your opinion doesn’t matter!”    
 “I’m merely pointing out that this might not be the best course of action--”

“Peter, I don’t _care_ what you have to point out!  I don’t care if you run off to Tibet and join the goddamn circus, okay?   _I. DON’T. CARE._ ”  

Stiles stood outside the loft with his hand on the door that he could feel the reverberations from Derek’s yells through.  Maybe he should’ve called before coming to get his history book from the day before?  Nothing like awkwardly stumbling into someone else’s family drama, especially werewolves with resurrection from death in their backgrounds.

“I’d hoped that you would have matured since your impressionable youth but clearly your inability to see a situation that will completely screw over everyone around you that you love has only gotten worse.”  Peter’s cutting words were getting clearer, as if he was moving closer to the do--oh shit.

Stiles flailed and pushed away from the door just in time for it to open and reveal a stone-faced Peter who showed no surprise at seeing Stiles in the hallway.

“And here, you have the first one who will gladly follow you into your second trial by fire,” Peter said quietly, knowing full well that Derek could hear him.  He gave Stiles a grim grin as he walked out of the loft and disappeared down the stairs.  

Stiles stepped through the door and locked eyes with Derek.

“Good thing you guys don’t have neighbors, right?” Stiles joked, trying to lighten the very oppressive mood that was left in Peter’s wake.

Derek looked like someone had run him through with a red-hot steel poker, right in his gut.  He swallowed convulsively and his eyes were haunted, far away.  Stiles took another step forward with a hand up, as if approaching a strange animal.

Derek finally seemed to take notice of him standing in his loft, watching and waiting for him to respond.

In the blink of an eye Derek was on the floor, shifted. He struggled out of his clothing, not even giving himself time to strip down to avoid ruining them, and he darted passed Stiles out the door.

Stiles sighed and grabbed his history book before leaving a window open for Derek to get back in.  He made sure a lamp was on, even though he knew full well Derek could see fine in the dark, and locked up behind himself as he left.

**************  
Dryads weren’t normally a vicious species but damn if they weren’t territorial about land they considered theirs.  It took the pack a little time to find out what was going on in the preserve and during that time the dryads had made themselves at home.    
 Derek tried the diplomatic approach, approaching their little group with Isaac and Lydia as fellow (less “hairy-scary”, as Stiles put it) emissaries of the Hale pack, to request they vacate the land and find their own area to set up camp.  The dryads refused, which surprised Derek, and claimed environmental reasons for why they were in Beacon Hills and squatting on the land.

Turns out this little group was more like a rogue Omega, at least in the dryad world.  They’d struck out on their own and all but abandoned their collective family.  And they just happened to find the Beacon Hills preserve the perfect place to establish themselves.

Great.

After consulting with Deaton reluctantly and taking a pack vote the decision was made for a three-strikes approach.  Two more visits netted the exact same results and increasingly hostile feelings on both sides.

The dryads struck first, attacking Boyd while he was out on a routine patrol during the new moon. His howls brought the pack running.  Or driving, as it happened, since Stiles was hanging out with Scott and Isaac.

Scott yelled at Stiles to stay in the Jeep but, really, wasn’t it time for Scott to learn that he was just wasting his breath?  He grabbed his crosse from the backseat and followed the weres into the woods.

He stumbled headlong into what looked like a video game or fucked up Disney movie.  Fur fighting fairy, it seemed.  The dryads were smaller than the wolves, but then most things were.  They were... earthy looking.  Like hippies that were reabsorbed by nature.

Except that the dryads were decidedly _not_ a peaceful bunch.

Snarls and screeching cries surrounded Stiles and he could feel dirt flying at him from every angle.  Scott was trying to pull a couple of them off Boyd, Derek was half shifted and taking on at least three behind some trees and Boyd was picking and tossing every single one that tried to throw itself at him.

Stiles felt something land on his back and start pulling on his hair and scratching his scalp.

“Hey!” He cried and whipped himself around, trying to shake it off.  As soon as he yelled he drew the attention of the other dryads and they started to stalk towards him.  They had what looked like primitive knives or blades in their hands (they weren’t claws but they weren’t exactly hands, either.  Hooves?  No.  But neither here nor there right now, Stiles!).

Stiles held his cross like a baseball bat and started swinging when they were within hitting distance.  He caught a couple at a time, finding them light despite their size.  He cleared a few of them into the bush, managing to keep them away from the others while they dealt with their own attacks.

“Yeah, c’mon!  Come get this!” Stiles yelled, unable to stop from getting some kind of remark out.  He mentally kicked himself seconds later when at least four more started to approach him.  A couple charged at him while the other two launched themselves at him and clung to his arms and shoulders.  

“Ow!  Stop biting!” Stiles yelled, trying to keep swinging.  Another one dropped from a tree above and wrapped around his neck, trying to slice at his face with its knife.  “Shit!”

Stiles heard a roar from behind him, a bone-rattling, true-blue, angry alpha roar and everything stopped.  The one dryad around his neck held on but the others stopped attacking him.

“That is _enough_!” Derek bellowed around his fangs.  “Your intrusion onto our land has now affected the human population of this town.  I demand that you secede any claim you think you have and leave immediately.”

“What human are you referring to?” One of the dryads that Boyd had been fighting stepped forward.  This one was wearing a fancy headband garland thing so Stiles took him to be the leader or king or whatever they had.  

“That one, there!” Derek yelled angrily, pointing a clawed finger at Stiles who shifted uncomfortably and waved feebly.  He heard Scott snort and Derek growled, probably more at him than the dryads so Stiles dropped his hand and turned his head to the one on his back.

“You mind?”

“He doesn’t smell of human.  He smells of pack,” the one on his back reported to his leader.

“That’s because he _is_ pack,” Derek replied impatiently.  “You’re not only infringing on the Hale land but that of the official pack of Beacon Hills, which also includes humans.  If I recall correctly there’s a covenant held by your kind that says you’ll never bring direct _or_ indirect harm to a human via your existence in their lives, no matter how peripheral you are. “

The leader considered what Derek said, then sighed and nodded.  “I accept and declare your territory to be yours.  We will move on by no later than morning to other areas.  Please accept my humblest apologies for our intrusion, Alpha Hale.”

The dryad on Stiles’ back snarled lowly in his ear before jumping down and stalking away into the trees with the others.  The pack stayed where they were until they were all gone and Derek nodded his head that they were an acceptable distance away.

Stiles spoke first. “Well that was just wonderful.”  He looked down at his arms and legs and noted all the scratches that were deep enough to still be bleeding and the cuts in his jeans that he’d have to try to pass off as “the fashion” to his dad.  He sighed and leaned his crosse up against a tree so he could try to stop some of the bleeding.

The rest of the pack started to walk away, laughing it all off like it was just another normal day in Beacon Hills.  Unfortunately for Stiles, it was.  He hissed quietly as he pressed the hem of his shirt to one of his wounds, trying to stop the flow.

“Is it bad?” Derek asked, appearing at Stiles’ side like a ghost.  Stiles jumped a little and closed his eyes.  

“Nah, could be worse.  I don’t think they need stitches,” he replied easily.  “Par for the course, right?”

He looked up at Derek in time to see the flash of hurt in his eyes but it was quickly masked away.  “It shouldn’t be,” he replied in a hard voice.

Stiles shrugged it off as Derek brought his hand up slowly, like he was going to run his fingers over the cut on Stiles’ cheek.  Stiles felt his heartbeat pick up but before Derek could make contact Stiles asked in a light tone, “So I’m pack, am I?”

Derek dropped his hand and his expression shuttered.

“What?” Stiles asked.  “Did you just say that to them to make them go away?”

Derek stripped off his shirt in one smooth motion and grumbled out a, “No” as he shifted, losing his pants in the process.  He looked up at Stiles with red eyes for a moment before literally turning tail and running off into the woods, in the opposite direction the dryads went.

“That’s okay, I didn’t want to talk about it anyway!” Stiles called after him.  He picked up Derek’s discarded clothes and hung them on a branch for him to find when he felt the coast was clear.  

Unfortunately it felt like he wanted it to be free from Stiles.

**************  
Even with a part time job Stiles still had a lot of time to kill over the summer.  He worked at a gas station, usually evenings, which was nice because he had his days free to sleep in and hang out with Scott when they both had a chance.  

He also took the opportunity to make more regular visits to the cemetery to visit his mom.  He used to do it more before high school but then life seemed to get in the way.  He missed it, the small connection he had with her, even if other people would think it incredibly morbid.

He planted some perennials by her plot and spent time weeding them over the weeks, making sure they were watered well and were holding up okay.  He told her about the werewolves, how Scott was bitten and everything that happened the previous couple years.  He told her he was happy, even though things were so damn weird in his life.  He spoke about being torn between telling his dad and keeping him in the dark in hopes of keeping him safe.  

He admitted to not wanting to ask her to watch over his dad because that felt like bad luck.

Stiles enjoyed the solitude of the cemetery, especially on sunny days, odd as that seemed.  It felt more peaceful that way.  Who in their right mind would want to spend a gorgeous summer day in a cemetery.

Stiles started feeling like he wasn’t alone around the time he found Derek’s family’s plots.  He didn’t know they were in there, hadn’t gone looking for them.  He just ... found them.

Derek’s parents had their own tombstone, and their children a small plaque beside.  Like... like there hadn’t been enough of them together for a big plot.

Stiles started stopping by their plots on his visits with his mom, too.  He’d see them first, spending a little time talking about Derek and the pack, assuring them that everything was going okay and Derek was doing the best he could.  Sometimes he complained about how stubborn their son and brother was, raising his voice enough that he could be sure “particular” people listening in would have no trouble at all overhearing him.  Other times he just brought them up to speed about the day-to-day.

On his mom’s birthday he brought two dozen flowers.  

“Happy birthday, Mom,” Stiles said softly as he sat down beside her tombstone.  He lay a dozen tulips at the base, in vibrant shades of purple and red, mixed with yellow.  “Sorry, they’re not all for you.  I have another stop to make today.”

He spent some time chatting with her, imagining her responses and when she’d laugh at his ridiculous thoughts and ideas.  He talked and supplied her replies in his head, keeping the conversation going.

When he was finished he wandered over to the Hale plot and laid the second bouquet, of lilies.  He wasn’t sure if he had anything to say so he sat with them instead.

Wasn’t long before someone joined him.  He didn’t bother to look up, he knew it was Derek in his wolf form.

“Just don’t have much to say today, I guess,” he offered by way of greeting.

Derek snuffled at the ground a bit before laying down beside Stiles.  Stiles watched him eye the bouquet and shrugged.

“Brought some for mom, decided they might like some, too.  It’s stupid, right?  I mean, it’s not like they _know_ or anything,” Stiles explained, feeling a little self conscious.

Derek grunted and put his head down in his paws.  They stayed like that for a while, until Stiles let his arm drop onto Derek’s back and started petting him without realizing.    
 When he finally did he jerked his hand back with a muttered, “whoops.”  

Derek didn’t say anything in return but he sniffed at Stiles’ leg and then moved his head to Stiles’ knee.  If Stiles knew what the cockles of his heart were he was sure they were warmed at that point.  He wasn’t sure if anyone else in the pack got to see Derek that way, he was pretty sure they didn’t, but he didn’t want to ruin it.

Stiles started petting Derek again and Derek let out a sigh.

**************

The cemetery visits got a little less frequent but were still regular for Stiles once school went back in.  

Derek just seemed to know when Stiles was going to show up even though they never spoke about it outside of the cemetery or while Derek was bipedal.

So on the date of the fire Stiles could feel Derek’s mood pressing down on everyone during their Saturday pack meeting.  He didn’t know if the rest of the pack knew or if they just had the sense not to bring it up or even think about it.

Stiles just wasn’t wired that way.

His dad was working the night shift so it was easy enough to slip away when it got dark.  He wasn’t sure how he knew Derek would be there, he just did.

Sure enough, Derek was laying between the graves, in Stiles’ usual spot, in his wolf form.  There was a fresh bouquet of flowers laying at each stone.

Stiles approached slowly, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea after all.  He had no problem with Derek joining _him_ but maybe it wasn’t the same when the situations were reversed.

Derek didn’t even look up as Stiles walked up, though, even though his eyes watched him until he settled on the slightly damp ground.

“Been here long?” Stiles asked softly.  Derek whined quietly.  

“I get it.  I can wait.”

Derek nosed at his hand in a way that Stiles knew he was saying thanks.

Stiles wasn’t sure how much time passed, ten minutes?  An hour?  All he knew was that by the time Derek stood up, ready to go, his butt was going numb and there were tingles in his feet.

“Want to go get a cup of coffee or something?” Stiles asked as they started to walk back towards the Jeep.  Derek was snuffling out some kind of response when a bright light shined into Stiles’ face and he felt like he was blind.

“Augh, Jesus!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up.  Derek started growling, low in the back of his throat and Stiles felt adrenaline start to zing through his body at the threat of fear.

“Stiles?”

“Dad?” Stiles put his hands down and could swear his heart rate decreased by half instantly.  “What are you doing here?”

“I believe I’m the one who should be asking that question.  Of my son who’s in a cemetery at midnight with a- is that a wolf?” The Sheriff took an involuntary step backwards and his hand hovered around his gun.  Derek backed up a step and Stiles could sense him really trying to not raise his hackles.

“No, no!” Stiles yelled.  “No!  Not a wolf.  He’s just one of those... wolf... looking ones.  You know?”

The Sheriff gave him a dubious look.  “No.”

“Well there’s such a thing, I swear.  Because, look!” Stiles gestured down at Derek.

“Okay.   _Why_ are you out here with a dog that _looks_ like a wolf?”

“I was looking for him!  For a friend!”

“And this friend?”

Stiles swallowed hard.  “Scott.”

“Scott?  Scott’s got a dog now?  Asthmatic Scott?”

“He doesn’t have that anymore!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he ... outgrew it or something.”

“You can outgrow needing a puffer three times a day?”

“Well, puberty and all that. Becoming a man and rites of passage!” Stiles waved his hand in the air in a grand sweeping motion.

The Sheriff blinked. “Uh, sure.  What were you going to do with Scott’s dog once you found it?  Take it home to him at nearly midnight? Why isn’t Scott looking for him?”

“Scott, well, he had plans tonight.  The whole weekend, actually.  Camping and Allison and stuff.  And Mrs. McCall is working all weekend, too. Which is why I’m out looking for his dog.  Because I’m looking after it.”  Derek growled lowly so only Stiles could hear.  “Him.”

“Were you going to tell me?” The Sheriff asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure!  Once we had him settled in and all.  I figured, you know, you’re on night shift and Scott’s away so this is a great time for me to bond with Scott’s new best bud, right?  Man and beast, forging a once in a lifetime bond and becoming best friends and ...”

“Scooping poop?”

“Er, yeah.  Scooping... poop,” Stiles said as he looked down at Derek who looked back at him with what Stiles swore was a smug glint in his eye.

The Sheriff shook his head, clearly not completely buying the whole story. “Fine, whatever.  I can’t say no now.  Get him home and get the collar and leash from Scott’s ASAP tomorrow morning, hear me?  I don’t want to hear any bylaw reports of a goddamn wolf-looking creature on the loose.  Where did Scott find him, anyway?”

“Uh... through Deaton’s, I think?”

“Makes sense,” the Sheriff mused.  He started to turn to go back to the cruiser but he swung around again, making Stiles’ eye twitch.  “Oh yeah, what’s his name?”

“Oh, er, Hale.”

The Sheriff blinked. “Hale?”

“Hell!” Stiles exclaimed.  “Short for Hell Hound!”

Beside him Derek snorted and shoved his nose into the back of Stiles’ leg hard enough to make him have to step forward.  

“Did Scott name him?”

“Nah, he came like that.  On account of his hellish attitude.”  Stiles crouched down and started scratching Derek’s back.  “But you’re really just a big softy, aren’t you?”

Derek’s eyes promised murder but in the meantime he leaned in and gave Stiles a long, wet, sloppy lick straight up his face.  Stiles fell back on his butt as his father laughed at him.

“All right, I’ve got to get back on duty.  I’m going to follow you back to the house so let’s get going.”

Stiles knew better than to argue with his father so he threw Derek a glance that was half apology and half ‘you’d better go along with this’ and got in the Jeep.  He threw the passenger side door open and thankfully Derek hopped in beside him, sitting tall in the seat with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, yuk it up, buddy,” Stiles muttered.

As promised the Sheriff trailed Stiles the whole way home and didn’t pull away until Stiles and Derek were both safely inside the house.

“Okay, hate to tell you this but you’re gonna have to stay,” Stiles announced as he turned on some lights.  He threw Derek a blanket off the back of the couch without thinking about it and waited a few seconds until Derek shifted back and was decent before turning around to face him.

“Why?”

“My dad thinks a giant dog is staying with me.  He’s going to look for it in the morning when he gets home and if you’re not here, _as_ that dog, he’s going to think it’s on the loose again.”

“You’re sure he’ll check?”

“I couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive without him reminding me to feed it every day.”

“Yeah, but how old were you?  That happens with all kids and their first pets.” Derek asked, wrapping the blanket around himself, toga-style.  That wasn’t at all distracting for Stiles to try to make words.

“Um, it was last year.”

“Right.  Well, I could run home and come back before he gets home, be here for him to look in on?”

Stiles nodded, trying to cover up the disappointed feeling that hit him in the gut. “Sure, you could.  It’s okay if you don’t want to stay here.  I can leave the window open or something--”

“Never mind, I’ll stay.  If that’s okay.”

“Yeah!  Yes!  I mean, yeah,” Stiles spit out.  “Um, want anything to eat or ... want to watch a movie or something?”

Derek shook his head.  “I’m okay.”

Stiles led the way to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of baggy lacrosse shorts for Derek, offering a tshirt that he declined.  They’d been through this before, after all.

“I’ll change in the bathroom,” Stiles mumbled.  He changed, brushed his teeth and drank a whole glass of water before returning to his room where Derek was standing by his small double bed, staring down at it with a frown.  
 “Sorry it’s so small.”

“No, it’s fine.  Totally fine.  Um, I can sleep on the floor, though?”

“No!” Stiles exclaimed, a little too loud.  “I mean, you’re not going to sleep shifted, are you?  Cause that’s ridiculous.  You’ll hear my dad when he gets in, right?”  Derek nodded.  “Then yeah, it’s fine.”

Stiles rounded the bed and got in on his usual side so Derek slid under the covers, too.  Stiles thanked all the heavenly bodies above that his sheets were changed just a few days earlier and that he’d made a cursory effort at making his bed that day.  

They each turned so their backs were to each other and Stiles turned out the bedside light.  There was still enough light in the room from outside that if Stiles turned over he was sure he could make out the tattoo on Derek’s back.

“Derek?”  

“Mmm?”

“You okay?”  
 “Fine.  Go to sleep Stiles.”

“Okay.”

Like clockwork Stiles’ dad arrived home a little after 6am.  Stiles’ eyes popped open the second the front door shut.  He was facing Derek who was already shifted and staring back at him.  

He heard footsteps on the stairs, then coming down the hall and Stiles closed his eyes the second before his bedroom door opened.  

“Stiles,” his dad whispered.  “Stiles?  Does he need to go out?”

Stiles feigned a sleepy groaned and stretched, pushing into Derek a little more than he intended, then opened his eyes again.  “Hmm?”

“Hell, er, hound.  Does he need to go out?”

“No, I took him out a few hours ago,” Stiles replied.

“Okay, I’m going to bed now.  See you in a few hours.”

“Night dad.”

Stiles and Derek waited until they heard the Sheriff close his own door before Derek shifted back.  Stiles watched as the fur melted away, his muzzle disappeared and his limbs became regular appendages again.

They lay facing each other, watching the other breathe and move and _be_.

Derek raised a hand and trailed it over Stiles’ cheek, touching each mole separately.  Stiles felt his heartbeat speed up but he didn’t do anything until Derek pulled his hand back.  

Screwing up his courage Stiles shifted in the bed and leaned forward, watching Derek’s eyes widen in realization.  Stiles went slow, giving Derek enough time to back away, to say no.

Stiles felt his lips brush Derek’s, the merest of touches.  Then Derek was gone.  He dropped off the side of the bed and by the time Stiles slid over to see what happened Derek had shifted.

Stiles felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Derek looked like he must have felt it, too, because he gave Stiles a pitifully pained look, then took two strides across the room to jump out the window.

Stiles sat in bed and watched the sun rise.

**************

Two weeks passed.  Stiles was able to genuinely duck out of pack meetings and training because of school work and the couple shifts a week he kept at the gas station for the school year.  

Scott knew something was going on but he didn’t push.  Sometimes Scott was good shit.

The one thing he couldn’t avoid, however, was the cemetery.  It was coming up on the anniversary of Stiles’ mom’s death.  He couldn’t avoid that.

After school he splurged on a dozen yellow roses and made the drive with a heavier heart than usual.  He wasn’t sure if it was because of the occasion or because he would be alone.

Or would he?  As he walked up the row to his mom’s tombstone he saw Derek sitting beside it cross legged.  Human Derek.

A simple bouquet of daisies and irises already rested at the base.  Stiles added the roses and stepped back to sit beside Derek.

“Thanks,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Wasn’t sure I’d be welcome,” Derek replied.

Stiles shrugged because he really wasn’t sure what to say to that.  He didn’t want to say, “you’re always welcome” and let everything go because that’s not what Stiles felt.  He didn’t know exactly what he felt but he knew he was grateful that Derek was there, that he _remembered_.

Most of all that he was _Derek_.

So he told him as much.

“Yeah.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not great with words.  Or my feelings,” Derek said, deadpan.

Stiles blinked.  “Did you just make a _joke_ about your stunted emotional growth?”

“Looks like,” Derek replied, a small smile playing on his lips.  It faded quickly, though.  “I’m trying, Stiles.”

“I know.”

“It’s just easier when you can’t expect me to talk back, you know?”

“I think you do pretty well for yourself,” Stiles replied wryly.

“You’re good at picking up on things.”

“I just play out a lot of scenarios in my head until I come to one that seems most plausible,” Stiles said with a creeping grin.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I’d like to see how this one turns out.” Stiles got to his knees and edged closer to Derek.  “Don’t run away this time.”

“Okay,” Derek whispered as Stiles lowered his face to Derek’s, pressing their mouths together.  Derek raised his hands to cup Stiles’ cheeks and opened his mouth to lead Stiles, who followed eagerly.

It was a sweet, easy kiss that made Stiles feel pleasantly warm inside when they broke apart.  Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’ cheek for an instance before pulling away.

“So, question,” Stiles said.  
 “Yeah?”

“When people ask where we had our first kiss do we tell them it was in a cemetery at my mom’s grave?”  Stiles asked, wrinkling his nose.

“If and when your dad asks you’d rather we tell him it was in your bed, even if it wasn’t a successful one?” Derek raised an eyebrow.  Stiles blinked.

“Right, okay.  Look, I don’t want to have to lie about this so I know what we have to do.”

“What?” Derek asked warily.

“We just have to go a couple other places and try this out there.  It would be our first time kissing in other places so technically we wouldn’t be lying,” Stiles said with a grin.

Derek snorted, then looked over Stiles’ head.  “So, your Jeep could be one of those places?”

“It totally _will_ be one of those places. Come on!” Stiles jumped up and grabbed Derek’s hand to pull him up.  Before they walked away Stiles kissed the top of his mom’s tombstone quickly, whispering, “I love you” to her.

On the way out they passed Derek’s family’s plots.

“Want to stop?” Stiles asked.  Derek glanced over but shook his head.  

“I’m okay for today.  But thanks.”

Stiles smiled and Derek smiled back.


End file.
